An Assassin, a Thief and the Dragonborn
by Nalledia
Summary: A chance encounter in the Tap n Tack makes friends of a Breton thief and an ambitious, future Khajiit assassin. Once in Skyrim, they watch as Alduin returns. They are saved by the Dragonborn, and their adventures are only beginning. Collab between Bajazzo & Nalledia
1. A Chance Encounter

The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim – An Assassin, a Thief and the Dragonborn

Fanfiction

**Disclaimer:**

**We do not own Skyrim or any of the NPCs, Quests or game dialog. Delany is Nalledia's; Solän'cae (Sol-ahn-tchai) is Bajazzo's. This will be posted on both our accounts (so please, don't report them as plagiarism – it's a joint effort on our part, so I believe it's only fair that we both get to post this story, instead of only one or the other)**

**Enjoy and please review!**

**A/N:** Fanfic collab between Nalledia and Bajazzo. It's a two POV story, one from a Khajiit's weird first-person, and the other from a Breton's first-person. Neither are Dragonborn, just to make it clear from the beginning. As this collaboration is only in the beginning phases, there is a chance that a third or even fourth POV may enter, to document two other characters (well, at least one will become rather prominent, but if that POV is to be included an A/N will make note of that;)) Hope you will enjoy this, beloved readers!

**Chapter 1: A Chance Encounter**

Solän'cae reached under the table, leaning back in this one's chair. The skooma was to the left, empty wine bottle to the right of my pack, beneath this one's feet. A quick glance around the inn – drunk Nords, smelly and loud, and busy fighting – they wouldn't notice this one's change in drinks, at least not until tomorrow. Solän'cae turned her ears to the bottles, listening to the trickle and chime of skooma flowing into her soon-full bottle. _Ah, these Nords may love their meads and their soft highs, but they will never know the highs of skooma, the pure bliss…_ this one purred before she knew it happened, dropping her empty-skooma into her pack and lifting her full-wine-skooma to the table, watching the room for suspicious eyes on Solän'cae.

This one found none.

And she lifted the wine to her lips, breathing in the sweet, delicious smell of refined and distilled moon sugar. This one sipped, savoring the taste, sweet as sugar, fresh and cool as the moons on a summer night. Solän'cae is excited to be away from the scorching hot sands of her beloved homeland, Elsweyer. But mostly, this one loves her family there – her litter was large, and the family just as big, and always bigger. Solän'cae sighed. But Skyrim… Skyrim would be just as much of an adventure! There were the mountains, the white-floating-cold-rain, the Nords, the caravans…. The Dark Brotherhood. Or, that is what this one hears from the Imperial hairless-ones. There is one last chapter, one last group still alive and free from the death they deal out to others.

Solän'cae closed her eyes, breathing in my skooma-wine-smell. Ah, this was what this one lives for – the bliss, the happiness, travel. But this Khajiiti has used all her septims, and she has only enough for tonight at the inn and tomorrow's food. Either this one must steal and race her way across the border, or she must find work and coin to buy her way across the border. But that is tomorrow's problems – Solän'cae has never had bad luck before, and she has no doubt that she will be looked after by the Great Cats. This one takes another long sip of her skooma-wine-bottle.

Everything will fall into place, just as it should. As it always does for this one.

* * *

><p><em>Tap and Tack, thank Dibella,<em> I thought, bracing myself against the snow and wind of a cold Evening Star twilight. I had just made the evening curfew into the city of Bruma, and I intended to make the most of my stay by living cheaply and gaining… _greatly_. I hurried inside, the sudden warmth from the fire in one corner contrasting sharply with the biting cold outside. I shivered, pulling my cloak closer and tried to weave and shove my way to the bar where the innkeep was drying off a grimy-looking tankard. "I'd like a room, please," I said, leaning forwards on the bar. The old Nord looked me over briefly, then nodded, tossing the cloth over his shoulder and stowing the tankard beneath the counter. "That'll be ten septims, girl," he huffed. I nodded, fumbling with my coinpurse for a moment. I considered ordering food, but my eyes wandered over the rough common room for a moment too long – too many fights, and sitting at the bar wouldn't help avoid them. I brushed a few dark, stray hairs out of my eyes. "Room's last one on the right end of the hall," the innkeeper slid a key over the wooden counter, and pointed to the small passage leading down to the back of the inn. I nodded my thanks, then spied an almost-empty table with a Khajiit woman.

She was snowy-white, almost like the snow leopards that were sometimes killed in the region, and she was thoroughly enjoying a bottle of Surilie Brothers wine. I didn't know the vintage – didn't really care, either – but perhaps she could be convinced to have some Cyrodiilic Brandy I had managed to acquire from a rather wealthy merchant on his way to Cheydinhal from Kvatch or so, in exchange for company and perhaps a partner in crime. I don't think the merchant knew his brandy was missing, but that wasn't my problem. I grinned, and headed over to the Khajiit woman.

* * *

><p>"Mind if I join you?" a young, hairless-one's voice broke through this one's happy thoughts. Solän'cae turned to look at the hairless-one-girl, then down at the bottle in her hands. "It's Cyrodiilic Brandy," the hairless-one explained. Blue eyes, like the skies or the dark ice in this land. Solän'cae smirked, then motioned with her snowy-white hand at the chair opposite this Khajiiti. The hairless-one opened the bottle, pouring a dark golden-brown into cups for us. The hairless-one pushed a cup to Solän'cae. This one raised the glass, sniffing the bitter, strong Imperial drink. Solän'cae's nose twitched and tingled.<p>

Then she tasted.

And she sputtered, slamming the cup down. The hairless-one looked up in surprise. "Bette_rrrrrr_," Solän'cae purred, holding out the bottle to the hairless-one. The girl raised a lonely bit of hair above her eye, then put down her cup of bitter alcohol and took the bottle. Then she tasted.

And her eyes went wide, and she smiled.

And Solän'cae laughed. Hard, good, sudden. Ah, this one realized it wasn't _wine_-wine-bottle, but _skooma_-wine-bottle.

"I'll agree," the hairless-one giggled, "this _is_ better than the brandy!"  
>"Solän'cae knows this, she is glad you agree!"<br>"Sol'ahnsai? I'm Delany," the hairless-one grinned, drinking some more from this one's skooma.  
>Solän'cae frowned. This one thinks. "Solän'<em>cae<em>. May your roads lead you to warm sands," this one purred.  
>"Uhm… you too?" the hairless-one, Delany, giggled, frowning. "Solän'<em>cae<em>!" The hairless-one sneezed.  
>"Bless you."<br>"Why? I just said your name. But bless you too!" Delany beamed, passing back the skooma.  
>Solän'cae grinned. <em>I think I like this hairless-one, Delany.<em> "Yes, this one likes that one…."

* * *

><p>Things were fuzzy and sharp at the same time. I loved and hated the feeling – or was it a smell? A touch? Who cares! "So, this is the house of a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. Was, I think," I giggled, leaning heavily on a fluffy, warm white Khajiit. <em>Warm… like milk<em>, I giggled again, falling against the wooden door and fumbling for my lockpicks to get inside. Or fumbling _at_? I dropped them once, twice, and another few times before the door gave and I tripped over my feet, falling on my face into the house. Solän'cae mumbled something, then fell on me with a hiss.

I sniggered. She purred.

We finally untangled ourselves and Solän'cae closed the door. "Let's ex_plooooore_!" I sat up, waving my hands in a circle, my eyes wide. The Khajiit's face was suddenly right in front of mine, my eyes crossing to look at her. "Yesss…" she purred, drunk and high and stumbling gracefully. "Hail Sithis."

I hummed in reply, and we went through the cupboards, plateboards, dressers, undressers, end tables and start tables. We pulled on extravagant, hard metal hats with long wooden handles far too big for us, threw strange, hard round cloth at the walls and floors which shattered rather interestingly and silently in a loud way. Who would have thought cloth could shatter?

Finally we half-stumbled, half-tumbled into the basement, falling onto our backs next to an unlocked trap door, breathless from our fun. Solän'cae shifted, laying her head on my ribs and started purring softly. I couldn't help myself – I started stroking her head, the soft fur over her ears…. I was entranced.

* * *

><p>This Khajiiti thought it was strange when the hairless-one started stroking my head. We do not <em>stroke<em> others' heads…. Perhaps it is normal for hairless-ones to stroke each other's heads? But it feels so nice, so soothing and the rhythm is good, gentle, soft. And Solän'cae is too happy, too lost in skooma-bliss to care too much. She purrs a little louder, and Delany giggles, like a little bird caught in a cage that sings in the sun. Solän'cae quite likes the sound, she thinks. Maybe not – it makes her want to catch the bird, chase it through the warm sun. but even that would be fun, and this one purrs, snuggling into the surprisingly-warm body of the hairless-one-Delany. Delany hummed, cradling my head and stroking softly. "So, do you wanna find 'em or som'ing?" she asked.  
>"Hhhmmmm? Does this one want to find who?"<br>"_Them_."

Silence stretched and curled up again. "Who?"  
>"Who what?" Delany slurred.<br>"Who am I looking for?" Solän'cae reminded her.  
>"I dunno – ask'd you," she mumbled, lost in her skooma-bliss.<p>

It was quiet. Then Delany snorted, and I hissed. We laughed, and laughed, shrieking and gasping, rolling around like newborn kittens. Solän'cae gasped for air, ready to answer. "Yes, this one–"  
>"By the order of the Count of Bruma, you are under arrest for trespassing and unlawful public appearance, and disturbing the peace!"<p>

This one looked up, hissing. It was a Guard of the City, hand on his silver sword, ready to arrest us. "Huh, what? We're not – _shit!_"

The hairless-one swore loudly when this clever Khajiit ripped open the trap door, shoved her down and jumped after her, pulling the door down. "_Run_, Delany!" this one hissed, pulling her up and pricking the soft flesh of her arm and wrist.  
>"Ow! Ok, I'm coming!" she called, stumbling to keep up. How does one run without a tail? With difficulty, it seems.<p>

We raced through the caves, finding a Black Door and ran over the broken remains. The corridors twisted and turned, the walls and floor black with fire-scars and frost-scars, and sword-cuts and arrow-stabs. We hid deep within the old, destroyed Sanctuary (because that is what this was – this much, Solän'cae knew about the Dark Brotherhood. She knew much, read and asked and listened to those who knew). This one felt safe within these walls…. Even Delany looked comfortable. But we would need to leave Bruma because of this.

* * *

><p>"We need to leave Bruma after this," I said, feeling strangely clear-headed after we started running through the ruins of the Bruma Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. I felt comfortable in the caverns – after all, assassins and thieves are distant cousins, and we often needed the other to help with our own work. It was a mutually beneficial relationship – they needed to fence their goods sometimes, and get some illegal equipment, and we needed people to steal from. Mutually beneficial!<p>

"This one knows that, but our things are locked in your room, yes?"  
>"Shit." I swore. "Yes, that's true…" I trailed. I could sneak back into the city and retrieve <em>some<em> of our things, but not everything.

My pack had food, two changes of clothes, my iron bow, a quiver of twenty iron arrows and a pathetic, abused (but useful) iron sword, and a fair amount of gold and contraband – the latter of which would earn me almost double what I now possessed, or a few weeks in jail, if my stash was discovered. I had at least two comparatively high-risk items in my pack. I had no idea what Solän'cae had in hers, but I suspected it would be similar to what I had, her 'contraband' being skooma instead of stolen goods.

"This one has no money to cross the border into Skyrim, where I am headed. There is another five bottles of skooma and this one's glass sword and bow-and-quiver in this one's pack. I cannot leave without them – they are too important to Solän'cae to leave behind."

I dropped my head into my hands. Small things were easy to hide, like gold and trinkets, but a full bow and sword? Challenging at best. "Challenge accepted," I murmured, raising my head to look at Solän'cae. "I'll go back tomorrow, and bring our things down here. There should be a second entrance, since we were in natural caverns before we came to this Sanctuary. We'll leave through the second entrance, and make our way to Skyrim. I'm headed there too – well, _would have_ after I spent a week clearing out Bruma," I grinned sheepishly.  
>Solän'cae returned my grin with more surety. "Excellent! Then we shall leave for the Cold Lands tomorrow. Together."<br>"Together!"

* * *

><p>Delany was fast – out and in and back again before this one knew it, and we left through a cave south of Bruma. This clever Khajiiti found the exit, and we went west around the city to the North. When we were finally North, some four days later, we saw a great, crumbling stone fortress. One look at the other and we already knew: we were going inside, to look and see what it was, and what was inside. Ah, this Solän'cae quite likes this hairless-one-Delany – she is a good thief, and a great friend so far.<p>

When this one becomes an assassin, this one will need friends who run in less-dark circles – why not have friends this one actually likes and knows?


	2. A Lost Dynasty

**A/N:** Pace is picking up a little here – hoping the silent lurkers out there will leave a review;) Enjoy!

**Chapter 2: A Lost Dynasty**

It took us about two days to circle around Bruma, then another almost-two days to make it to the imposing, gilded gates of Cloud Ruler Temple where it stood – loomed – out of the mountains which sheltered it from any attack. It was awe-inspiring, really, and especially so in the cold mist that shrouded the land in white-grey. Even Solän'cae, with all her dedicated interest in the Dark Brotherhood, and typical disinterest in architecture _not_ related to the assassins, had to admire the craftsmanship that went into the structure. It had been abandoned at some stage during the Great War, when the Blades had been rather effectively destroyed and mutilated by the Thalmor. Both are meant to be taken literally – if there are Blades still alive, they are in hiding. Those that were buried, were buried in hopes that the pieces and mess of flesh and bone was the person it claimed to be.

Didn't stop the elves from breaking in to see what was inside, though. The huge, heavy gates were slightly ajar, and Solän'cae and I stalked and crept in silently. I took the rear, my bow strung and arrows at the ready. Just because it was abandoned by sensible people didn't mean it was devoid of people at all. We squeezed through the narrow gap in the gates, staring up at the tall, broad stairway in from of us. "Wow…" I breathed, glancing around and above us quickly. One of Solän'cae's black-tipped ears flicked backwards briefly, and she hissed softly as if to silence me. I rolled my eyes, but obliged. We spread out a little, treading up the stairs through the fine snowy mist. It was freezing here, between stone walls, mountains and snow.

I was still amazed by the sheer size of the stairway – four horses could easily walk next to each other all the way to the top, and judging by the way the stairs had been formed, they had been built with that in mind. _Clever_, I nodded to myself, briefly turning around to look back at the gates and the raised area behind us. "Look, this Solän'cae sees something there," the Khajiit murmured softly, pointing to the front. A wood and stone building stood still, silent, waiting for us to find it through the cold. When I looked around us, I saw buildings I recognized as stables to my left. The grass planted on top was overgrown, long, and almost ready to succumb to the frost lying over it. "Shall we find out what's inside that building, Solän'_cae_?" I asked, throwing a grin her way.  
>She smirked gleefully at me. "Why, of course! This Khajiiti <em>will<em> know what lies beyond those doors."

I slung my bow and reached for my picks, my grin every bit as wide as hers.

* * *

><p>This Khajiiti watched for enemies while the sky-blue-eyed-Breton picked the lock, nimble and quick. And then she pulled her bow to the front – scraggly, scratched and ugly iron thing it was – and motioned the door. Delany nocked an arrow, I raised my glass sword. Solän'cae nodded. This Khajiiti opened the door, and kicked it wide. Delany was ready with her bow, straight and thin to the target. Then she relaxed. "Empty. Let's head in, see what's left of this place."<br>"Right, this one agrees." Solän'cae sheathed the glass blade, following the hairless-one inside. Broken swords hung on the walls, lay on the floors. Wood was burnt and frozen and cracked and cut, the ceiling hanging where the beams could no longer stand. The Thalmor made quick work of this place. Solän'cae's people fought because our cousins the Bosmer fought, and because the Altmer had returned the Moons to us when they left our skies. For that, all are grateful. I walked into a burned book, kicking it out of this one's path, looking around. Delany hissed, clucking her tongue. Solän'cae turned to look at her. "Don't just _kick_ things out of the way! There could be valuable artifacts and historic pieces here!"  
>Solän'cae stared back. "It was not on purpose, this one did not look where she was going. It was foolish of this one to think this place would be free of history on the floors."<br>"Oh," Delany turned pink, looking down in shame. "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to come off as rude. I just…. There's just –"  
>"Too much history and too many stories that must be told and heard, yes?" Solän'cae grinned. Ah, a fellow student of history…. Good. At least she is not a bumbling idiot where this place stands<br>Delany grinned – beamed, perhaps. "Exactly! Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could uncover some forgotten piece of history while we're here?" the hairless-one kept babbling excitedly, and it was all Solän'cae could do not to join her. It _would_ be exciting to find something new-that-was-old, and look into the stories behind this new-old truth.

The book this one had kicked was already crumbling when I walked in, and now it was just ashes and dust. _A pity – but it would be unwise to wish to know its contents,_ Solän'cae thinks, and stands, carefully weaving through the wood and ash and tile and – was that a skeleton? – made her way to the middle of the room, looking up and around at all the swords hanging here. _They must have been great men and women for their swords to be displayed here, so proudly._ Solän'cae snarled and hissed. How _dare_ the Thalmor destroy centuries of history just because the Blades were their enemies?! Have they no shame, no care for the world?

"Hey, you ok?" Delany looked worried, scared of this Solän'cae. I breathed deep, closed these ice-blue eyes and relaxed.  
>"Yes, I am alright. I am just angered that others can come and destroy so much history so quickly without care. It is worse than murder, worse than war!" I growled, tail swishing behind me. Ah, it makes this one so angry…. "Look!" I waved her closer, frowning and scowling. "See all these swords? They are the blades of great men and women who served as the old Septim Emperor's bodyguards, the greatest Blades of their time. And look here," I gestured at the floor, the broken slivers of steel and the cracked hilts on the beams above and below.<br>"It's so unnecessary to destroy like this…" Delany whispered, her young face scowling darkly. "I see what you mean. They had no right to destroy this place, but I also understand why they did this."  
>Solän'cae stared in disbelief. "You agree with this?!"<br>"No!" Delany shook her head hard. "No, of course not! But I understand _why_ they did it. If anything here survived intact, there would be a small sliver of hope that people could defeat and turn back the Dominion. Besides, if they left this untouched then it would show they are too weak to take full control of the Empire. All of this destruction is very specific and very political. But it doesn't change the fact that it's sad to lose so much history. Come on, I found a door leading to a different room before you called me. Let's go see what's there," the Breton finished quietly, as if she could soothe the hurt in this place.

Solän'cae supposes this Delany's reasoning is correct, but it doesn't mean that this Khajiiti agrees with it. _Perhaps when I join the Dark Brotherhood, I will get contracts to kill some of the Thalmor. Would that not be fair revenge for what happened here?_ Solän'cae grinned darkly. Oh, it would be more than fair for what happened here….

We explored the entire ruin of Cloud Ruler Temple, the crumbling, ancient fortress of the Blades, where Martin Septim himself had lived during the Oblivion Crisis, where the great _Khajiit_ Champion of Cyrodiil had served as an honorary member, and saved the world from Mehrunz and his mischief. The legend of Al'Kardho the Champion of Cyrodiil was well-known throughout Elsweyr, and every kitten wished to be as great as the Dune-born hero. The midnight-furred, golden-eyed Hero of Elsweyr and Cyrodiil, as we knew him. This Solän'cae shivered in glee – if only she could have met the great cat himself…. What an honor it would have been.

But he was probably dead, and no-one knew where he had died, only that he was gone. Perhaps he had risen to live among the Divines like Tiber Septim, the hero-god known as Talos; perhaps Al'Kardho found peace within the realm of his patron Daedra Lord. Solän'cae would not know which one, yet. Hopefully not for a long time still. Delany had left to explore a room we identified as one that Martin Septim himself may have slept in, and this one explored the burnt-exposed library. There were still some books to be saved from this place, and this Khajiit carefully packed them all into her travel bag. Well, those that were most interesting to me, anyway. "Solän'_cae_! Come here quick! I found something amazing!" Delany shouted, her feet already running back to the library. I looked up as she came in, struggling to hold up a large, fat book, her nose deep inside its page.

This one was interested in the find – what was that, exactly? "What is that, Delany?" I walked closer, and she gently set the book – tome – down.

She was excited, her blue eyes glistening like the ocean. "It's a history and full lineage of the Septim Dynasty – _after_ the death of Martin Septim."

* * *

><p>I was breathless at the find, and Solän'cae stared blankly at me. I kept grinning. "Look," I pointed at the book, paging back and pointing out names, dates, short biographies. "All of this shows that the Septim line has continued, and is still alive! And sure – at the very end it mentions a second volume, one continuing the line after this one, since it only records up to Fourth-Era-Eighty, so we're missing some hundred-plus years, but <em>imagine that<em>! The Septim Dynasty, alive and well, and someone out there in the great big wide world is the rightful _Emperor_ or _Empress_ to the throne!"

That got Solän'cae's attention. "Let me see that," her eyes were fixed on the book, and she turned it to face her even as she moved closer to the tome. I nodded, stepping aside. I watched as she scanned the pages, snatching up the important lines and facts from the document. "We will need to confirm all of this, yes."  
>I nodded eagerly. "That's what I thought. The only place that's truly independent of Thalmor influence is the College of Winterhold. I've heard their library is as large as the Imperial Palace's library. The other plus is, once you're in, you can learn almost <em>anything<em> there – all the magic Schools, including Mysticism, Enchanting, Alchemy…. They have history and research divisions too, so there should be hundreds, no, _thousands_ of books on the Blades and the Septims and the Empire and everything else relating to them!" I gasped, suddenly out of breath. Solän'cae looked as excited as I felt.

Then she squealed. I was too shocked to do anything but stare as she started dancing around the room, purring and singing out random words. "This is… I cannot…. Solän'cae doesn't know how to react to this! We must find the other books like this one! We must search the library to see what else we can find about these cubs of Martin Septim! What if we find the now-living cub? What if there is more than one cub? A litter?" she squealed again, and darted for a bookshelf, her tail raised and swishing impatiently from side to side. "If we find nothing here, then we will need to find information on Al'Kardho – the Champion of Cyrodiil – for surely he and his cubs will know about the Septim cubs! Only then will we go to the College – I am sure that there will be many things to find here!"

I laughed, and joined her enthusiastic search, asking her a million questions about the Khajiit Champion and Elsweyr while we turned Cloud Ruler Temple upside down and inside out for any and all books we could find that we could sort of read if we squinted at the page hard enough for long enough. And used more than a little of our imaginations.

When we stopped for lunch to stretch and take a break from the reading, I asked about what would happen if the rest of today turned out to be as fruitless as this morning. "Then we leave for Skyrim tomorrow, and spend the night here?" I checked. Solän'cae nodded. We beamed at each other. How exciting! We both poured over the book for the rest of the day, and when we weren't staring down at the pages, we were raiding the library and every other part of Cloud Ruler for hints to other tomes like the one I had found, clues as to where we would be able to research the matter more closely. We even started looking for any documents relating to Al'Kardho, if we could find any at all. Even a fleeting mention was worth making notes about.

Nothing substantial came up.

The most we got was a brief mention of Al'Kardho, and the sacrifices he had made for Tamriel, only to be unfairly exiled from Cyrodiil. This sent Solän'cae into an uproar – why, who and what had happened? He was a hero of her people, the very thing to strive towards! What had happened? These documents had to be false, had to be stories to discourage the curious….

But we both knew they were as true and original as they could get.

Eventually we gave up the search, and settled for heading to the other side of Skyrim before attempting to delve deeper into this mystery of ours. We also agreed to keep the knowledge to ourselves – Divines alone know what might happen to us if it got out to the wrong people. Solän'cae seemed very nonchalant about being captured and tortured for this information – I was a lot more anxious about that prospect. But then, I had never really befriended a Khajiit before, so perhaps her expressions were very different to mine.

But, all was still well, and tomorrow we would reach (if not cross) the border to Skyrim. We'd already planned the route to a certain degree. We stop at Helgen, an Imperial-governed village, and hope to find a trading caravan or wagon headed northeast to Winterhold. Safety in numbers, especially with rumored unrest in Skyrim – apparently the Nords hadn't taken to the Thalmor as well as the Empire had hoped, and some Nord Count (or that equivalent) called Ulfric Stormcloak had taken it upon himself to challenge the High King and kill him. He had even amassed an army to support him. What the actual story behind it all was, I didn't know – but it would make Skyrim an expensive and dangerous place to live in, never mind travel through.

We would also be buying warmer furs and clothes for the journey while we were in Helgen. But that was as far as our plan went, and most of it would rely on my ability to track and hunt game for food, since we had barely enough coin between us to buy what we needed. But I would be a whole province away from where I had acquired my goods, so I would probably be able to sell them all fairly easily. I hoped so, anyway. Thereafter, the only thing we needed to worry about was whether or not the Stormcloaks would be doing some guerilla attack on random travelers.

* * *

><p>We made it to Helgen without a hitch. Solän'cae's fur grew thicker and slightly longer as we moved through the mountain passes and the snow, while I wrapped myself in thick fur cloaks over my warm woolen clothes and fur shoes. I was used to the coastal city of Anvil, and the warmer clime of Cyrodiil. This was downright <em>freezing<em>. I had packed the tome into my pack, carefully wrapping it in extra clothes. It was a heavy load in my pack, but a strangely comforting one – it was full of knowledge and secrets and I wanted to know what it was all about, regardless of where it would take me.  
>Well, some things were extreme, but I'd decide which bridges to burn once I built them.<p>

Helgen came into view roughly a week and some after we left Cloud Ruler Temple, and both of us were grateful for the sight of stone and wood buildings, friendly faces and the Imperial banners flying in the wind. We paid for a room at the inn, and I sold my ill-gotten goods at the general trader without a hitch. It was a quiet, calm day right up till late afternoon.

Then an Imperial messenger came into town, and the soldiers were all a-buzz: General Tullius was on his way here, as was First Emissary Elenwen of the Thalmor. Why, the townsfolk asked, suspicious of the sudden activity.

Why, Ulfric Stormcloak and a handful of his bodyguards had been successfully ambushed at Darkwater Crossing, just as their informant had told them, and they had been captured.

Ulfric Stormcloak was to be executed for treason, along with his bodyguards. Here, in Helgen, by the end of the week.

Solän'cae and I looked at each other. We'd be here for the week, then. We'd watch as history was made or broken, for better or worse.


	3. Dovahkiin, Fah Hin Kogaan Mu Draal

**A/N:** Violence and gore, peeps. In properly obscene measures – we had no mercy to give here. Read and Review!

**Chapter 3: ****Dovahkiin, Fah Hin Kogaan Mu Draal**** (Dragonborn, For Your Blessing We Pray)**

It was a long and impatient wait. It was Tirdas when the news came about Ulfric's capture and impending execution, and Solän'cae and I were impatient for it. Not because we were staunch supporters of the Empire, or even the Thalmor – but because we had never attended an execution before, and we had a morbid curiosity about how it would pan out. How _did_ one go about executing, or being executed? Were the people to die calm and accepting of their fate, or did they scream and beg, and try to run if they could? Would they fight, or would they leave this world with snide remarks?

What would the headsman do? Would he be glad to kill these people, or was his job one that nauseated him to his very core, that every night he would drown his memories in the strongest drink he could afford? What did they crowd do? Cry out in joy, spit at the condemned, weep at the lives taken?

That was what we wanted to know, and know it we would.

The day started out fairly normal – small talk with the innkeeper while we tried – and naturally failed – to have a peaceful breakfast, left the inn, wandered the market and argued with the general trader on behalf of one of the stall owners (from whom I would usually steal a ring or a nondescript amulet no-one would miss), and the general trader would pay us off with ten septims each to tell the stall owner what he wanted to hear. Then I would do my best to look dangerous or busy to avoid playing with the children – why did they always choose me? – while Solän'cae….  
>Well, she was a different matter altogether with the children. Hated the 'furless-ones' as she called them. One sharp hiss and all her fur on end and they were scampering off, terrified of her. I usually felt awful after that, and ended up buying them all sweets to appease them.<br>By the time we hit Loredas, we had a grand total of one-fifty septims between us. My thieving and one hunting trip on Middas had earned us a fair bit of gold. Sadly, paying for board and food, and my recompense of sweets was causing our store to deplete itself, so we were hoping that Ulfric would be here by today – Sundas.

We weren't disappointed. Around midday, the Imperials called out to General Tullius, informing him that the headsman was waiting. Solän'cae and I exchanged a brief grin from where we stood on the inn porch, leaning against the rail. To our right was a tall stone tower, and we could clearly see the plaza where the Stormcloaks would be executed. The wagons rolled in, pulled by strong bay workhorses. Several of the townspeople catcalled and jeered at the passing rebels, and several parents sent their children inside.

There were only two tightly-packed wagons of manacled Stormcloaks, perhaps thirty of them in total, with the last wagon carrying only three. A Nord man in plain clothes praying to the Divines, a Stormcloak soldier who shot the first a glare and told him that they were all 'brothers and sisters in binds, Horse Thief'. I raised my brows – that was an offense punishable by death. But the last man in the wagon caught my attention. He was dressed in Nord finery – heavy woolen pants and shirts, a richly dyed and gold embroidered velvet coat and thick furs trimming the entire outfit. He sat calm and straight, staring back at anyone who dared meet his piercing brown eyes. There were scars on his left cheek, and his dark blonde hair was braided back in some Nordic style, his beard neatly trimmed.

But most of all, he was gagged.

_So some of the rumors are true, then, that his voice has power,_ I thought absently, staring as the wagon passed us and two Imperial soldiers rode past, then dismounted and ground-tying the horses. The Thalmor agents were just behind them, halting a short distance from the inn, but remained in the saddle. Solän'cae made an aggressive noise next to me.

* * *

><p>This Solän'cae was glad that the Stormcloaks finally came – she was beginning to think that, just perhaps, they had managed to escape and were on their way back to Windhelm to abuse and hate the other races not of Nordic-kind. Especially us Khajiit and Argonian. Here, in this cold land, this Khajiiti had learned of all the terrible things he had done to the Dark Elves and the Khajiiti and the Argonians, making them work harder, longer, forcing the elves into a slum and the Argonians could not even <em>enter<em> the city…. Solän'cae is glad he is to be put to death for all of that! I hissed, baring my teeth at his cart. _Let him know he is hated, let him know he will not go unpunished for his crimes against the people…._

But not all had been bad, no?

He was the one who started the fight for the Worship of Talos again, after the Concordat was signed. Who were the elves to ban the worship of a people's god? For that, Solän'cae respects this typical Nord before her, so proud and full of himself, sitting as if he rode upon a golden throne like the Mane of Elsweyr…. Hah! He is but a Nord, a cruel, racist man without thought of the people he wanted to rule, if he were to become this 'High King' of Skyrim. Had that tailless, hairless one been a greater Man, perhaps this one could have respected him more for fighting for the people. But he was not, and I will not. This Solän'cae will not bow to a man like that…. I hiss again, growl-meowing at the wagon as it passes.

Then come two Imperial soldiers, riding two horses. They stopped just a bit away from the inn, and get off the horses. The one moves to the wagons, taking a list from another soldier. The second one stays closer to the inn, his not-yet-storm-cloud grey eyes looking at everything, everyone. It looked to this Solän'cae as if he saw the _truth _of things, as they really were, _who_ they really were. It was unsettling to Solän'cae. Delany didn't even notice – she was too busy staring at the Racist-Nord-Not-King, Ulfric.

Speaking of, the other Imperial with the list started reading the names of those tailless ones to be executed. Then one broke free, screaming that he couldn't be executed, he wasn't a rebel. But he had stolen a horse, yes. A valuable animal. He ran. "Oh, Divines, he's an idiot," Delany shook her head, following him with her eyes as he ran past a horse, just to be shot down by archers.  
>I laughed. "Yes, to escape this, one needs a horse. Besides, if one steals something so valuable, and is dumb enough to get caught, then one must pay the price."<br>"Yeah…" my hairless-one agreed, looking back at the last of the names to be read out. "It's going to happ–"

A dull roar cut through the air, and everyone turned to look up at the sky. "Did you hear that, Delany?"  
>"Yes; what <em>was<em> that?" she frowned at me. This Solän'cae shrugged. How would either of us know?

"Carry on!" General Tullius called, waving at a Redguard (this Solän'cae thinks, could be a tanned Nord or Imperial; maybe even a Breton) she-Captain as he walked away from Ulfric. The Nord looked ready to kill the Imperial General with his glare. This Solän'cae might have found it funny if she wasn't so interested in the next part of the execution. A priestess moved to stand next to the she-Captain, behind the headsman. The she-Captain nodded curtly. "Yes, General Tullius! Give them their last rites, Priestess."  
>The woman dipped her head, then raised her arms and looked to the sky. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Divines upon –"<p>

"Oh, for the love of _Talos_, shut up and let's get this over with!" a Stormcloak man shouted, striding forwards proudly. I glanced at Delany – she only raised a brow. This was unusual. "I haven't got all morning!" he shouted, standing at the block.

The priestess looked ruffled. "Very well, then," she stepped back, leaving the plaza immediately.

The she-captain pushed him to his knees, then kicked him to the block. Nodded at the headsman.

The headsman nodded back, the Stormcloak soldier looked up, twisting to glare at the Imperials. "My ancestors are _smiling_ at _me_, Imperials. Can you say the same?" he sneered.

Then the headsman's axe came down hard, and the rebel's head fell into the basket below. This Khajiiti blinked, Delany flinched and half-turned away. The she-Captain pushed the body over, calling a young soldier closer to drag the headless corpse away.

Some called out that this was justice, others called them traitors, a woman to be executed was restrained, and she screamed out that they were all 'Imperial bastards and milk-drinkers'. What is so bad about drinking milk? Solän'cae isn't _fond_ of it, but it is nice, from time to time.

The roar sounded again, and everyone started getting nervous. The only one who seemed calmly concerned was the not-yet-storm-grey-eyes Imperial. He looked up to the tall mountain – the Throat of the World, apparently – and frowned deeply. It was almost as if he suspected what was at the top of the mountain that was making that roar.

The List-Imperial-Nord soldier asked a few questions of the she-Captain, but she silenced him and ordered the next rebel forwards – one this Khajiiti thought was called Ralof. He stepped forwards, knelt at the block and was kicked over onto the red-life-force-water wet block.

Then the roar became a harsh scream of fury. "What in Oblivion is that?!" General Tullius shouted, pointing at something black in the sky.  
>"Sentries, what do you see?" the she-Captain called.<br>"It's in the clouds!"

"Did you see that thing?" Delany asked, eyes wide and questioning.  
>This Solän'cae shook her head. "No, not really. It was like a shadow in the night when I noticed it."<p>

"_DRAGON!_" a rebel shouted, just as the huge, black, winged thing crashed down onto the tower.

Everything shuddered, and we lost our balance, even so far on the inn porch. The dragon looked around, growled, opened its mouth. The headsman died when something from inside the dragon broke his neck, and then suddenly the sky turned to a storm, burning rocks falling down.

I hissed, Delany screamed as a rock crashed into the inn behind us. Everything burst into flame.

"Come on! We need to get out of here!" the not-yet-storm-grey Imperial! Solän'cae stared. He grabbed my arm and pulled. I hissed, claws scratching at his skin without thought. He glared, then I nodded, running out while he threw an arm around my Delany and led her out and away. It was then her senses came back.

But not good ones.

She came to a halt in the middle of the street. "All my things are in that inn! My weapons, clothes –"  
>"You can't go back! We need to leave this place, Breton!" the Imperial man spoke firmly.<br>I grabbed her face between my hands. "You have your life; that is enough. We must go, we _must live_!"

She stared back, but nodded. "Lead the way, Imperial!" I growled. He nodded, and I grabbed Delany's hand, hers tightening around mine. We followed quickly, looking up whenever the dragon raced above, fire coming down and lifting soldiers, tearing down stone buildings.

Men screamed as they fell, women wept as the burnt, and the littlest of children were trampled underfoot as we all ran.

The old died when fires broke the wood above their heads, houses and shops crashing down, down! Into each other, the street, starting more fires, making bigger ones. Skyrim had never been so sweltering. It burned even those who stood too close – no need to stand inside the fire. But a _dragon_….

Twice rocks nearly fell on us, had it not been for the Imperial helping Solän'cae and Delany. For that, this Khajiiti was grateful.

I still had my sword and bow and quiver – we would be alright for a while. But how…? A _Dragon_? Like Alkosh? The Great Dragon? Impossible!

"Careful!" Delany screamed, pulling me out of the way of a burning beam. I yelped, the sparks singing my tail, my arm. This Solän'cae hissed and spat and ran faster, struggling to keep up with the Imperial man.  
>"Come on! This way!" he shouted, waving us along.<br>"Yeah, we're not that fast," Delany muttered, and I nearly laughed. Maybe I did, this one isn't too sure. The need to get out was strong.

We crossed an open area, where houses had burnt to the ground, where the market used to be. "Nothing _KILLLS THIS THING!_" a soldier screamed, throwing down his weapons and fleeing.  
>"Shoot him!" a captain called, grabbing the bow for himself and killing the deserter.<p>

The dragon screamed, swooping low and ripping into the stone parapet, taking soldiers with him and breathing fire down on them.

The sound of battle and dying and the stink of fear and death in war was not something this one appreciated. All because of this black _thing_, this black dragon.

A woman screamed, tripped over her skirt. One of the horses and wagons rattled past, throwing us off balance and crushing the woman. Her brains were spread around her skull, the pink and stark white too bright against the dirty stone ground. She died before blood could squirt, so it oozed out. It was the pus in the wounds of Helgen. The Imperial pulled us up, pulled us along until we ran on our own just behind him.

Some had soiled themselves, and that stink combined with burning and dying and the screaming and the crying…. Delany convulsed once, pressing a hand to her mouth and running faster.

This Khajiit felt the same.

We ran out through the North Gate, up the road and into the forest for a long time. Finally we stopped behind a few boulders that made a natural shelter, crouching and hiding there.

Listening.

Listening to the sounds of the dragon, those still fighting and dying and burning. The sounds of those who had been left behind to their dark and terrible fate. Those who had not been lucky. Those who had been too slow, too old, too young. The brave, the coward…. All dead and dying in the Oblivion that was Helgen.

* * *

><p>We were silent for a long time, lost in our own thoughts. The Imperial healed his arm with magic, and smiled gently while he waved away my apology. I couldn't look him in the eye very long – he seemed uncomfortable with looking at people. Hours passed, or seconds, or days. Delany stayed the quietest, then suddenly she spoke.<p>

"Everything's quiet. Listen, nothing's happening out there," she said quietly.

We listened – she was right. Nothing was happening out in the wide world. "Do you think it's gone?" she asked, looking at us.  
>"For now, I suppose," the Imperial said. "I'll quickly have a look, then I'll come back and we can head to Riverwood. It's the closest town, and it's also the closest to the nearest city, Whiterun."<p>

He stood, then disappeared around our shelter and scouted the area.

"Well, we're alive, which is good," Delany laughed.  
>I smiled at her. "Yes, we are alive. And that is <em>very<em> good. Great, in fact," this Solän'cae grinned, and purred a little. It seemed to make her smile, and at least she was looking more alive now than she had earlier. Solän'cae was grateful for that, too. Delany looked at me. "I'm glad we're both ok. I'm glad this Imperial came to get us when he did. I was too shocked and scared to do much, honestly," she half-laughed nervously.  
>"This Solän'cae was also scared. She is glad that he came when he did, too."<br>"You scratched him."  
>"I was surprised," this one replied, nose in the air. Then we smiled and laughed quietly.<p>

Before we could say more, the Imperial returned. "It's all clear. We can leave for Riverwood. I'd rather we travel as much as we can as quickly as we can – is that alright by you two?"  
>We nodded, and Delany stood up. "Thank you, for coming to get us," she looked at me as this Solän'cae stood. "I guess we owe you our lives," she blushed, shy.<br>He chuckled, a warm sound. "Glad to be of service. I'm Michael, by the way," he gave us a bright smile. It made him look like a young boy, to this Solän'cae anyway.  
>"This Khajiiti is called Solän'cae," I said, looking him over, and taking my bow and quiver off to give to Delany.<br>"I'm Delany," she smiled, taking my quiver and tying it to her back, carrying my bow in her hand.

"Solahn'shai – I apologize; I'm not good with Khajiit names – and Delany. Pleased to meet you, though the circumstances are unfortunate. Let's go!" he turned, glancing back to make sure we followed.

To Riverwood we went.


	4. Riverwood

**A/N:** Righto! We're introducing the third of a total of four POVs in this chapter, and we hope you enjoy this one! Silent lurkers, a short review is always appreciated;) Enjoy!

**Chapter 4: ****Riverwood**

This Solän'cae hissed and turned away when the sudden stink of Helgen gusted by on the wind. Delany nearly lost what-felt-like-yesterday's breakfast.

Only Michael stayed calm, pulling out cloth and covering his mouth and nose. He turned to give us each one. "It doesn't block all of it, but it makes it tolerable," his voice was muffled under the cloth. We grabbed it gratefully, and this Solän'cae was unspeakably grateful for the protection over her muzzle. Delany scowled at the ground, and took the lead, walking towards the burnt village.

This one had to assume she had decided that her things were too important to leave behind, and were worth the risk to save. That was the only reason we were going back to the South, when Delany suddenly insisted she needed to return.

* * *

><p>The stench of death, burning people and other awful things I didn't even want to think about as the sudden wind picked up around Helgen was overwhelming. I wasn't squeamish, as a rule – I could kill if I needed to, and skin and gut animals when I went hunting, but the <em>smell<em>….

_That_ was what I couldn't handle. Combine all of that with the fact that we had been attacked with what _had_ to be a dragon… and you have a Breton thief in denial. Well, to a certain degree. Walking through the proof of what happened with a rag over your mouth and nose is a great way to kick yourself out of denial. I scowled at the ground in front of me, and shifted Solän'cae's glass quiver on my back, gripping the bow a little tighter and striding around the debris and bodies and smoldering beams. No need to linger, and if there was anything left of my pack in the inn, I wanted to save it.

Specifically, I wanted the Septim Tome. I wanted to know it was still whole, that I could still save the knowledge hidden inside it….

The inn came into view ahead of us, and I broke into a sprint, racing for the ruined building.

There was a hole where our room had been, fires licking at the wood. I threw down the bow, and leapt through the hole.

Michael shouted, Solän'cae hissed.

I needed that book, if nothing else.

The bed had saved my pack from most of the fire, so I hauled it out and threw it out the hole in the wall, coughing. I followed it as soon as it thudded on the stone outside doubling over in the cool, clear air and coughing. I gestured at Solän'cae, throwing her a questioning look and pointed at the inn, coughing some more. I hoped she'd understand I was asking if she wanted her pack. She growled at me. "No, there is nothing left in there that this one would want at the risk of her friend. We must go," she grabbed the pack, carefully glaring at Michael; a silent dare to ask about my pack and what was specifically so important about it.

I stretched, and offered him – what I hoped was – I bright grin. "Let's go!" I said, picking up the bow and following Solän'cae. We had quite a distance to travel, and I wanted to get to a warm bed and a thriving village soon. The stench that hung thick in the air around Helgen was suffocating in more ways than just physically. Michael followed behind us, and we left through the same gate we fled through originally.

I turned my head slightly when the chink of armor and dull thud of feet came up closer to slow next to me. "You alright after that?" Michael asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. I smiled tightly, nodding and hefting my quiver to a more comfortable position on my back, breaking his gaze. While Michael had a certain air about him that made me feel safe, I couldn't look him in the eye for very long. Both because he broke contact before I could really look at his grey eyes, and because there was _something else_ there, too.

But I was probably just imagining that, after everything we'd been through. "Yeah, I'm ok. Alive, which is great. And I have everything that's especially precious to me, too, so I guess life's good." I flashed him a smile only to see he was looking ahead again, the corner of his mouth twitching to a half-smile. "Good."

_Well, that wasn't awkward at all – grinning at someone's cheek_.

Solän'cae suddenly stopped, her eyes wide when she turned to stare at me. I stared back, confused at first, but before I could frown I nodded quickly, realizing that she had just thought about the book, too. Her shoulders sagged visibly with relief when she sighed, and I let out a nervous laugh. Solän'cae turned and kept walking, her tail-tip twitching from side to side.

* * *

><p>I stared at the odd pair for a moment after the Khajiit started walking again. Something in that pack the slight Breton had recovered was worth a fortune in secrets, and whatever it was, it was important. I trudged after them, keeping pace with Delany. Of the two, I trusted her more. She lacked the apparent darkness within the Khajiit – Solahnshai, Sol-ahntchai…. I sighed through my nose. I doubted I would be able to say her name quite right. There was something that was carefully violent inside her, and yet she was also very protective of Delany.<p>

Delany, however, was more mischievous than her companion, and far more complicated. _You're imagining things, Michael_, I thought to myself. _It must be because I keep seeing her dark blue eyes and then remembering she will know I am different if I stare too long._ I glanced up at the sky to the west – we would need to set up a camp soon, and assign watches through the night. If Solän'cae – _I believe I succeeded for once_, I commented wryly – kept moving at this pace, we would reach the Guardian Stones by midday, late afternoon tomorrow, and we would be in Riverwood sometime after nightfall.

Delphine would still have the inn open, and at least three rooms free, not counting those private rooms in the basement. They would be alright from that point on, but after this… I needed to get to Solitude, and find out whether or not Tullius had managed to escape, and if he hadn't, who would take his place as General in Skyrim. Ulfric had no doubt managed to slip away in the confusion, and whether or not he had helped his men escape was possibly a matter for debate.

While the man had great ideals of honor and glory, his reasoning seemed flawed at best. Did he –

"We need to stop and make camp," the two women chorused, grinning tightly at each other. My jaw clenched and I looked away from them. They were still dealing with everything that had happened. Today would still be fresh in their minds for a long time, no matter how strong they were. And strength was something that made up their very souls. "Seasoned travelers. At least one of you knows how to hunt, yes?" I glanced quickly between them, lingering just too long on Delany's smug smile before taking in Solan-tchai's smirk.

"You're in luck – I hunt, and I'm pretty damned good at it, too. Here's to hoping Lady Luck still smiles on me," she quirked an eyebrow. "I'll see if I can find something small – we really shouldn't carry raw meat around in the wild for a variety of reasons," she probably looked between us, and trudged off into the woods. That left me with the bizarre contrast that was Solahnshai – snow-white fur hiding a kind of darkness blacker than Oblivion. Her ice-blue eyes were a sharp contrast to Delany's, and I suspected the Khajiit was far more aware and alert than her relaxed, nonchalant mannerisms gave off.

We were left alone to set up camp until Delany returned.

* * *

><p>I returned with my prize – two rabbits. I had no idea how we were going to skin and prepare them with two swords, but it was doable, I supposed. <em>Actually, you've just forgotten how to do it. And…. Actually I don't trust myself to be steady enough to prepare them properly.<em>

A small fire was flickering in the almost-twilight of Skyrim, and I held out the rabbits proudly when I entered the firelight. "I have no idea how I got so lucky, but I won't complain – thank the Divines for them! Now it's just remembering how to skin them with a sword," I grinned, putting down the bow. Solän'cae seemed to relax when she looked at me, her whiskers twitching slightly. Michael stood and took them from me, his eyes focused on the tawny creatures. He set to work immediately, the tiny things skinned, gutted and spitted over the fire by the time the sun disappeared behind a mountain, a monumental structure perched on its peak. I squinted at the tall arches, and pointed. "What _is_ that?"  
>Solän'cae shrugged, and Michael followed my finger to the mountain. He nodded to himself. "Bleak Falls Barrow. It overlooks the village of Riverwood. It's about a day's hike to the top where the barrow is situated. According to most people, it <em>is<em> abandoned, but that only means no-one is brave enough to find out if there really _are_ bandits hiding at the top somewhere." He threw us a grin. Solän'cae and I exchanged a glance – we'd head up, and find out.

Michael took the first watch, and Solän'cae and I fell asleep quickly. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The kind of sleep the dead might have.

* * *

><p>"And these are the Guardian Stones, the three Protectors of the Standing Stones in Skyrim," Michael pointed at some time after midday. Solän'cae set the pace we travelled at, and she traveled quickly. I suspected she wanted to get rid of Michael's company – she had made it clear today that she didn't trust him all that much – not <em>explicitly<em>, of course. Just… _implicitly, _I guess – there wasn't really another word to describe how she treated him.

He was useful to her, and she respected his ability to fight – we had walked into an ambush by three wolves – but other than that…. Michael had best stay out of her way. I wondered what had happened between them to make her so distrustful of him. I hadn't been able to ask.

I walked up to the three stones, Mage, Thief, and Warrior. "The way you said that makes me think that _all thirteen_ are out there in the wilds?" I questioned, glancing back at him as I walked up the dais. Michael nodded. "Interesting," I murmured to myself, touching the warm brown stones, their smooth faces so carefully carved to show the images of the Three Guardian constellations. I idly wondered how many travelers and hopefuls had touched their surfaces smooth over the years and prayed for the blessing of the stones.

Solän'cae stood next to me, and we glanced at each other before staring at the stones. _Thief would be useful to me, considering my current occupation, but I really_ am_ more interested in honing my magic…_ I thought, staring first at the Thief to my left, then the Mage in front of me. I didn't even bother looking to the Warrior by my right. Solän'cae and I moved at the same time – she walked up to the Thief Stone, laying her right palm flat against the constellation, just as I did to the Mage Stone. _I pray for your blessing_, I rested my forehead against the stone, then stepped back. Perhaps I wasn't meant to receive a blessing.

But before I could let my hand fall to my side, a kind of energy washed over me. I gasped, staring at the stone as it glowed a soft blue-green. Solän'cae purred happily to my right: apparently, she had also been blessed by the Thief. She turned to smirk at me. "It seems to this Khajiiti, we are going the right way, yes?" she grinned, her tail high and swishing from side to side.  
>"It really does!" I turned and walked towards Michael with Solän'cae. "And what about you? Aren't you going to choose a stone?" I pressed.<br>Michael's mouth twitched slightly as he looked away from me. "I have no intention to choose a Stone. _Yet_," he added, meeting my gaze briefly.

I frowned at him. "Choose a Stone."  
>He looked at me again. I pouted a little, changing my expression from determination to plea. "Please? You never know – maybe you'd also get the Stone's blessing, like we did!"<p>

Michael sighed. Flexed his jaw. _His strong, square jaw…._ I noted, and he brushed his dark brown hair away from his face. _He's attractive,_ I thought, trying hard not to start grinning and blushing. "Fine, fine," he breathed, and I grinned, throwing a fist into the air. "Yes!" I cheered, blushing when I met Solän'cae's playfully accusing look.

We watched the Imperial walk right up to the Warrior Stone without hesitation. But when he stood there, facing the stone, he wavered for a moment. Then he touched the stone, and it glowed a dark blue before fading. Then Michael turned, glancing at us briefly with his clear grey eyes. "We need to keep moving – we've wasted enough time here," he gestured at the road sloping down to the river.

Solän'cae nodded, and waited for him to take the lead before walking next to me. She purred quietly, almost humming.

* * *

><p>My feet hurt and I was exhausted when we finally stumbled into Riverwood. Well, <em>I<em> stumbled, Michael walked and Solän'cae tried to catch me when I tripped over my own feet, but instead we crashed into each other and stumbled into one of the thick posts that made up the guard parapets. "Oowwww…" I whined, and then snorted when Solän'cae giggled. "This is Bruma all over again," I chortled.

We straightened and managed to catch up to our confused-looking Imperial guide. "We can walk to an inn, but that is as far we will go. Well, it is as far as _this_ Solän'cae will go. I cannot speak for this hairless, clumsy cub," she said, mussing my hair and gesturing at the main road behind him. He stared at us.

Then he laughed.

But before I could really appreciate the deep, happy sound, he stopped and walked to a loud, well-lit building down the street. "Welcome to the Sleeping Giant," he said, holding the door for us.

It was busy, with many travelers and villagers eating and drinking and being merry. A dark-haired man at the bar froze while wiping a tankard. He narrowed his eyes at us when the door closed, and shouted to a room. A blonde woman stormed out, glaring at the barman, then she turned to the door. I thought Michael looked frustrated for a second, swearing to himself just as the blonde woman charged up, her face in a deep frown.

"Where have you _been_, Michael?!" she hissed, stopping just short of grabbing him. "You were supposed to send a letter from your next post! You _didn't_!"  
>"Delphine," Michael soothed.<br>"And then when I try to find out where you are –"  
>"Delphine."<br>"– they tell me _YOU'VE BEEN CALLED OUT ON A SPECIAL MISSION! WHAT –_"

"_Enough!_" Michael half-hissed, half-shouted over Delphine. Staring at her pointedly, or glaring. I glanced at Solän'cae to see her staring at Michael with narrowed eyes. Delphine's eyes went wide, and she took a step back, shifting uncomfortably. Then her face set again and she opened her mouth to argue. Michael raised his hand. "_My companions_ and I have traveled far, and would appreciate food, drinks and beds for the evening."

I glanced between Michael and Delphine, unsure of what to make of his sudden outburst compared to his typically stoic and somewhat charming manner. _And what's the story between them? They don't look like family, and neither are wearing wedding bands…._ I was surprised by how disappointed I was by the idea of Michael being married to someone, and not just _someone_, but this ordinary, boring _innkeeper_ woman. _I shouldn't judge them, I shouldn't judge her – but really, she's not even _that_ pretty…._ I stared at her, even as she stared at me and Solän'cae. _Nope, not that pretty at all._

I grinned brightly at her. "Delany, and this is Solän'_cae_, my friend. Michael helped us out of a tight spot…" I trailed, and I could tell my smile faltered.  
>"Perhaps, if this one can suggest, a place to sit is a good place to start when traveling. If you want to question your hairless-tomcat-Imperial, do so without impairing your other guests," Solän'cae quipped, her nose in the air and turning to stare at the rest of the inn as if it had not only offended her, but her entire family, legacy and heritage as well. <em>Maybe even her fate<em>, I almost laughed at Solän'cae, and Delphine. I just smiled tightly at the woman, and she waved us on. "Come, I'll set the two of you up in rooms. Michael, you know where your room is."

Solän'cae and I followed Delphine, and I tried to be discrete about looking to see where Michael was headed. "Lovesick kitten," Solän'cae mock-chided, her eyes shining.  
>"Yeah, yeah. Hey, why don't you trust him?" I asked, jumping on the matter. Delphine left us to our own devices, promising hot food when we came back to the common room.<br>"There is something strange about him. He sees too much, knows everything and somehow hides it all. I do not like that he seems to know as much about me as I do. Then there is also that no-eye-touch, ah, eye _contact_, he likes doing. It is strange, like that of a servant and not an Imperial Legion soldier."  
>I nodded thoughtfully, putting my pack on the bed, and returning Solän'cae's bow and quiver to her. "I see your point. Well, I don't suppose we'll see him again after this," I stretched.<br>"Probably not – but perhaps you will write each other!" Solän'cae giggled. I merely clucked my tongue at her, feeling my ears go warm.

* * *

><p>The food was perfect, this Solän'cae had to admit. And she was secretly glad that the Imperial was busy with the woman. I didn't trust him at all – one must look another in the eye more often. But, but! This one was glad that Delany had given me a reason to tease her a little – it was funny to see the hairless-ones turn pink and red when they were embarrassed or shy. And while I had thought it was the <em>faces<em> that went pink and red, Delany proved it was the _ears_.

That one's ears turned a red to shame a tomato, a red even, to shame the life-water-blood seen at Helgen.

Later, when the woman came to talk to us, she asked that we tell the Jarl of Whiterun about the dragon. Michael told us he could be found either through the Legion at Solitude, or through this woman, Delphine. it was more for Delany's sake than mine, that this Khajiiti knew.

But most of all, we were happy to fall into a safe, soft bed.


	5. Broken Puppet

**A/N:** Apologies for the delay – we were trying to get a little ahead of the schedule so our beloved readers wouldn't need to wait this long again. Hope you enjoy, and leave us a review! You know it makes our day;)

**Chapter 5: ****Broken Puppet**

Michael left for Solitude before we were even awake the next morning, and we left soon after breakfast at Delphine's continued insistence we tell the Jarl – apparently that was a Nord title similar to a Count, but independent of a king or emperor – that there was a dragon and reinforcements to Riverwood were needed. And so we left for the Hold's capital. Solän'cae was almost irritated that I had agreed to the 'menial' task for both of us. To her, this was an obstacle in our journey to Winterhold and the College there.

And even _that_ wasn't what she really wanted to do in Skyrim – she wanted to find the Dark Brotherhood, and she hadn't even started her search yet.

* * *

><p>Sometimes this one wished Delany would spend less time helping others and more time being selfish. True, we would have stopped at Whiterun for a cart to Winterhold, probably, but now we had to go <em>into<em> the city, and spend the night, most probably. It was infuriating to be wasting so much time, though this Solän'cae understands that the people of this village need more than just the two guards keeping the peace in the inn. And so we set out. Michael was – this Solän'cae was grateful for that – already gone when we woke up. Delany seemed a little upset, but she brushed it off quickly.

She even seemed to forget about him once we entered the city, and managed to ask a smith about her trade. _Is there anything this hairless-one will _not_ try to learn?_ I wondered, just as she turned and hurried me along to the Jarl's palace, a place called Dragonsreach. I would ask the steward there for the place's history. And then probably explain it over to Delany after she dealt with Jarl Balgruuf the Greater.

Thinking about all this history, though, made me think about the books I had saved from Cloud Ruler Temple and had lost in Helgen. Thankfully, I had read them all before Helgen, either at the Fortress of the Blades, or during our stay at Helgen. There was lots of time to do nothing, especially once Delany had occupied the children with sweets. Awful and horrifying things, those hairless-cubs are: ugly and all-skin and tail-less. This Solän'cae _hated_ hairless-cubs….

"Oh, look at that tree…" Delany pointed, and this Solän'cae looked up.

A great, tall-wide white-bark tree stood in the center of the plaza, beautifully decorated with carved Nordic arches. The tree covered the plaza from one end to the other, and its dark red and green leaves and little white flowers were breath-taking. We stood and stared, gaped, eye-touching the tree over and over again. We were completely enthralled, awe-struck by this tree in the middle of Whiterun.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

The voice made Solän'cae hiss and flinch, ears-flat-teeth-out, and Delany gasped.

"Oh, forgive me," the priestess of Khenarthi smiled and laughed, touching her mouth. "I thought you heard me coming, but I should know better than to try and talk to people who are admiring the Gildergreen."  
>"Gildergreen? Is that what this tree is called?" Delany grinned, the wide-awe-happy-amazed kind, and stared back at the Gildergreen-tree. The priestess of Khenarthi nodded. "Where does it – <em>she<em> – come from?"  
>"This is a daughter-tree of the great tree of Kyne in Eldergleam Sanctuary, south of the village of Kynesgrove in the Eastmarch. The Windhelm Hold," the priestess added when we looked blankly at her.<br>"It must be a great pilgrimage for the devoted of Khenarthi," I purred, looking back at the tree of our Wind goddess and psychopomp.  
>"Indeed it is. If you are ever in that area, you should seek out the beauty of Kyne," she dipped her head at us, and then left, and we stared at the tree some more. Then we both started walking towards Dragonsreach at the same time. Hopefully this Jarl was more accepting of Khajiit than the other Nords, but this priestess gave this one some hope about the Nords of Whiterun.<p>

* * *

><p>"Ah, <em>more<em> bootlickers," a child sneered at this Solän'cae and Delany, and I glared at him, snarling. He merely shrugged and walked away.  
>"Well, it seems that Nordic nobles aren't that different from Cyrodiilic nobles," Delany commented. I hissed.<p>

We had finally entered the keep, and already one of the Jarl's children had insulted not only this Solän'cae, but her Delany, too. Delany seemed unfazed by the dismissive insult, but this Solän'cae…. Ah, this one wanted to grab that hairless, tailless cub by the scruff of his neck and scratch him to shreds….

"Hey, calm down – he's just a moody kid," Delany touched my shoulder. This Khajiiti hadn't even realized she was growling. "Well, his father has a lot of influence around here too, so the whole eye-for-an-eye thing isn't exactly going to work out for you." She winked, and laughed, then walked up the stairs.

There were lots of stairs until we were finally close to the Jarl, walking towards a great fire-holding-pit when a Dark Elf came to us, drawing her sword while the Jarl argued with his steward.

"Halt! By order of the Jarl, I demand to know your business. He isn't receiving visitors any more today."  
>"We're here on behalf of Riverwood, and it's rather urgent. Specifically, Riverwood requests reinforcements," Delany said, looking serious and imploring at the same time. This one was sure that the Dark Elf woman would turn us away, but she hesitated and sheathed her blade. "Very well, you had best take up the matter with the Jarl himself," the she-elf beckoned that we follow her, and the Jarl held up a hand to silence his steward when he saw us approaching.<p>

"What is this, Irileth?" he asked gently. _I did not know that 'gentle' was something a Nord could do,_ this one confessed to herself.  
>"These are two travelers from Riverwood, Jarl Balgruuf. They wish to petition reinforcements for Riverwood."<p>

That had the Jarl's attention immediately. "Riverwood requests reinforcements?"  
>"Yes, Jarl Balgruuf," Delany nodded. "They fear that the dragon which attacked and destroyed Helgen only four days ago will return, and without proper aid, they may suffer the same fate."<br>The Jarl sighed deeply, head in his hands for a moment. The Dark Elf and the Jarl's steward looked shocked. "So you know of this dragon then?"  
>"Yes, my Jarl. We were… in Helgen when it attacked," Delany started, glancing at me. "We had decided to stay on when we heard Ulfric Stormcloak was to be executed, but right before the second Stormcloak could be executed, the dragon appeared from the north; that great mountain, in fact."<br>"Ah, I should have guessed Ulfric was involved in this somehow…. Well, Proventus, what do _you_ think about this 'dragon' business, now that the news has been confirmed? Should we continue to trust in the strength of our walls, against a dragon?"  
>The steward looked at a loss, confused. This Khajiiti would not ask for the history of this place from him.<br>"My lord," the Dark Elf, Irileth spoke sharply, but with respect. "We should send troops to Riverwood at once! It is in the most immediate danger. If that dragon is lurking in the mountains –"  
>"The Jarl of Falkreath will see that as a provocation! That we are moving to side with Ulfric, and attack him!" the steward shouted back. This Solän'cae thinks he is a coward.<br>"Then let him think so! Riverwood is defenseless against a dragon!" she countered.

"Enough!" the Jarl stood, shouting over the two arguers. "Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."  
>The Dark Elf put her fist to her chest. "Yes, my Jarl."<p>

The steward pouted. "We should _not_ –"  
>"No! I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my Hold, slaughters my <em>people<em>!" Jarl Balgruuf snarled.  
>The steward shifted, looked down. "If you'll excuse me, my Jarl, I shall return to my duties," he said quietly.<br>"That would be best," the Jarl returned, quiet-violent-dangerous.

This Nord has this Solän'cae's respect. The Nord-king sat down again, slowly and looking us over.  
>"Well done, both of you, for seeking me out to tell me of this dragon. Whiterun is in your debt, and I will not forget this."<br>Delany smiled, looking down. But then she turned serious before I could excuse us. "My lord, you mentioned earlier that we had _confirmed_ the news from Helgen…. We thought we were two of three survivors."  
>Balgruuf looked shocked. Apparently that news had escaped him earlier. "Truly? Well, an Imperial soldier by the name of Hadvar came through late last night, making an awful racket about preparing defenses against a dragon before collapsing from exhaustion. Many of us heard – what I can now only confirm – the roars over Bleak Falls Barrow, but I wasn't sure such a thing could still exist. To have another two survivors from Helgen confirm that there is indeed a dragon on the loose is concerning. You say a third was with you? What happened to your companion?"<br>"He set out for Solitude to rejoin the Legion before dawn, my lord," Delany replied.

So four of us, at least, had made it out of the Oblivion that was Helgen…. Not comforting odds. "Well, thank you for bringing this matter to me. I have a city to tend to, and specifically the improvement of its defenses," Jarl Balgruuf dismissed us, and this one was glad to be leaving the city – the Dark Brotherhood and knowledge about the Septims and Al'Kardho would not be found here.

* * *

><p>We did not have the money to book passage on a cart, so we had to walk-march-trudge north. We found out that Delany's bow had been destroyed by the fire, so it stayed to become tonight's firewood. She would keep using mine until she could afford to buy a new one.<p>

And so it came to be, that on our way north, we passed a little man with a big wagon and an even bigger box, stranded next to the road by a farm with a broken wheel and an old-tired horse. "BOTHER AND BEFUDDLE!" the little man screamed, kicking at his broken wheel, then cursing and grabbing his foot. "Why, oh, why?! Sweet Mother!"

Delany raised both of her little hair-stripes-above-eyes. "Well, a jester in Skyrim is something I never thought I'd see…." She looked like she wanted to keep walking, but there was something about this little man, this jester-merry-man, that caught this Solän'cae's attention, and she would have her curiosity filled. Hopefully it would not kill her, but then, Khajiit are not really _cats_….

"What is the matter?" this one asks. Delany makes a whining noise in her throat – she does not like the man much.  
>"Cicero is stuck, can't you see?!" he shouted, pointing. Then this Cicero sighed, head-in-hands. "Sorry, so sorry – he didn't mean to shout. It's just, Cicero is stuck, moving his mother – well, mother's <em>corpse<em> –" he giggled, "– she's quite dead, you see, but though we are at rest, we are too still! Too still and unmoving! We need to reach the new home! The new crypt for Mother!"'

This Solän'cae was beginning to wish she hadn't asked, but there was still something about the man and his wagon, and the box. Was there really a corpse inside? "What can we do to help?" Delany asked quickly.  
>"Would the two kindly, lovely lady strangers help? Truly, TRULY?!" he ran over, hands clasped at his chest, grey eyes big.<p>

This one nodded. "We will help. What can this Solän'cae and her Delany do for you?"  
>"OOOHH! Thank you, thank you! Oh, Cicero would be most grateful, most grateful <em>indeed<em> if you could help!" he jumped up and down, clapping and dancing. "See that farm, over there on the hill? That's the _Loreius_ Farm, where _Loreius_ lives. He has tools, he has knowledge, he can help me!"

We stared, waiting for him to continue. "But he won't help you, and we need to change his mind?" Delany checked.  
>Cicero almost nodded his hat-head off. "Oh, yes please! Convince him to help, and I shall reward both of you with clinky, shiny, GLEAMY GOLD!" he cackled, clapped and danced.<p>

"I'll stay here, you go ask them for help," Delany said, dropping her pack to the road and rolling her shoulders.  
>"This one must go ask for help?!" I pointed to myself. How would this Khajiiti from Elsweyr convince a Nord farmer to help a jester-merry-man?<br>Delany grinned smugly – this one wanted to wipe it off with sharp claws, for a second. But then she felt bad for thinking so. "Well, _you_ asked what this is about, so it's up to you to make sure he gets the help he needs. I'll make sure he stays out of _more _trouble than he's already in."  
>This one growled. "Very well, I shall try to convince the farmer."<br>"Good luck – thought I know you'll succeed," Delany winked, sitting down in the middle of the road.

_The hairless-tail-less ones are indeed strange creatures,_ this one thought, shaking her head, stalking up the road to the farm-and-farm's-farmer.

* * *

><p>Of all the people Solän'<em>cae<em> chose to help, it had to be a crazy jester. One with a dangerous undertone and a very irritating voice. But the clothes he wore…. The red, black and gold motley was just too dark, just too…. _It's almost too ominous for a jester to be wearing colors like that. It's almost what I would imagine a Dark Brotherhood jester would wear._

My sudden train of thought made my eyes go wide, and I stared at the jester just as he turned to look at me. The smile he gave me….

I stood up immediately, dusting myself off and offering a grin. "I think I see Solän'_cae_ on her way back with Loreius!" I pointed to the farm, where a bristled-looking Khajiit was leading a sheepish-looking Nord with what looked like a toolbox. Then he stopped, explained something to Solän'_cae,_ and she nodded impatiently, then came back to us.

"So, where are you headed? Well, which Hold?" I asked. Maybe, instead of gold, he could give us a ride to at least Windhelm, if he was going that way.  
>Cicero narrowed his eyes at me. "Cicero is headed to Falkreath Hold."<br>"Oh, I see. Well, I was hoping we could catch a ride with you, but we're headed up to Winterhold," I smiled tightly. He was beginning to make me uncomfortable – when was Solän'_cae_ going to get here?  
>"Oh! Cicero understands! Yes, it <em>is<em> quite a walk up there, cold too, this Fool of Hearts hears. But sadly – or happily – I am going where it's _MUCH _warmer!" he giggled, suddenly happy again.

"Lorieus will come, this Khajiiti has made him promise. He is just fetching the last of his tools, then he will be here," Solän'_cae_ said as soon as she was within earshot.

The jester squealed with glee, ran up to her and grabbed her in a sudden hug she was too shocked to respond more to than the baring of teeth and hissing. And then suddenly _I_ was in such an embrace.  
>"Oh, thank you, thank you kindly strangers! This Cicero is <em>most<em> indebted to you! And Mother too! Oh, he's sure if his sweet Mother could speak, she would thank you too!"

I pursed my lips and pulled a face as soon as his back was turned – a corpse, speaking? Far too much madness for me.

"Here, kindly strangers! Gleamy coin as promised!" the jester fished out a smaller box from the wagon, counted out an amount briefly which he divided into two pouches. "Cicero will wait for Lorieus, until he fixes our wheel! Thank you, thank you! A few coins for a kind deed!" he pressed the pouches into our hands, and waved us off with a little jig.

"This Solän'cae almost regrets doing that – but there was something too interesting about that hairless-tomcat than this one begins to understand. There is something beneath the surface, which this one doubts he will tell if asked."  
>"You got that too, huh?" I glanced at her. "He's rather scary in an unpredictable, crazy kind of way."<br>"This one agrees. That is what makes him so _very_ interesting to this one…" she trailed, and we walked in silence for a long time.

* * *

><p>Windhelm.<p>

The city of Khajiit-haters and Argonian-haters and Dark-Elf-haters and haters-of-all-who-are-not-Nord. It took us over three hours to convince the guards to let this Solän'cae into the gate, and that only happened as soon as Delany mentioned that she had _paid_ me to accompany her, and then that her family had raised me from cub to protect her.

How insulting and demeaning. But this one knows that her Delany meant well – it was all to get us inside the city. It was now after dark, and we needed a place to sleep. Candlehearth Hall would not let me in, so we were forced to go down to what the Nords called the Grey Quarter. This Solän'cae called it filth-slum-ghetto.

Why would anyone want to live here? Rather risk the roads for a better place than this, but that was Solän'cae's opinion. Perhaps these Dark Elves had no means to leave. So we ended up at the New Gnisis Cornerclub, the only other inn. Delany could have stayed at Candlehearth, being Breton and closer to Nord-looking, but she did not. For that, this one is proud-sad-angry.

Delany went in first, the snow and wind harder on her skin than this one's thick fur. The club was silent, and this one was half-out still.

"Oh, come slumming in the Grey Quarter, then?"

Delany took a step back. This Solän'cae hissed and snarled, moving her out of the way. "This is a cold, angry-tired Khajiit sick of racist-Nords and now of racist-Dark-Elves, so everyone here will shut up about _my Breton_ and give us a room, beds, food and good drinks. Now, this Khajiiti has made herself clear: do it, and then go back to drinking and eating and doing whatever you do here!"

The club stayed silent, and I slammed the door shut, shaking off the snow.

"Welcome to the New Gnisis Cornerclub. I'm Malthyr Elenil, and I work here for Ambarys Rendar, the innkeeper. It's ten septims per person for a room per night, and twenty for that plus a hot meal and a bath."  
>"Oh, Divines <em>yes<em>!" Delany breathed. The entire inn stared at her – even this Solän'cae. It sounded as if she had called her lover's name. She blushed. "Uhm, well, we've been on the road a while…." She hid her face behind a hand. Malthyr just laughed. "Very well, then. I'll show you to your room, and prepare the rest for you."

The innkeeper, Ambarys, just sneered at her as she passed, following the Dark Elf while I paid forty gold septims for us. We had each gotten a hundred-thirty from the jester-merry-man, and we had spent a night at Nightgate Inn too, so we were down a bit money-wise, but soon we would be in the College. All was well.

"This one's Breton could have stayed with the Nords. She chose to come with her Khajiit instead. Let this one even _think_ she heard a bad word of her Breton, and there will be trouble, Innkeeper," this one hissed quietly, just as the noise picked up again and Delany came back, without her pack to lead me to the room. The innkeeper was furious. "You keep to yourselves here, and _we_ won't have a problem," he sneered back, grabbing the gold and counting it again.

This one couldn't wait for a bath – her fur was no longer crisp-white-cold-rain-from-Skyrim white, but a kind of dirty-grey-brown from travel. It was _disgusting_ – white should always be perfectly white, no matter the cost. Especially if I, the only Solän'cae, could help it.


	6. The Parting Glass

**A/N:** Read and Review, you know we love those! Enjoy! Oh - we changed the colors of the Master Mage robes to better suit the Schools - nothing too serious. The thought that the choice of colors were either off-white-and-faded-blue-green or off-white-and-purple-and-red for all the Schools was... _depressing_. Enjoy!

**Chapter 6: ****The Parting Glass**

It was that night, after the promised warm bath, all clean and white-furred, sitting with wet-hair-Delany, eating hot food and some strange drink that made this Solän'cae feel warm and fuzzy and happy, that she heard about _them_.

The Dark Brotherhood.

There was a boy, a young Imperial child called Aventus Aretino, orphaned when his mother died just a few months ago and sent to Honorhall Orphanage – from where he escaped to return here – who was trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood to kill someone. This Solän'cae had made a promise to search for knowledge about the Septim Dynasty and Al'Kardho, but she had made an _oath_ to find the Dark Brotherhood. The want-thirst-need to kill was rising in this Solän'cae, and she couldn't wait any longer to take the life of another…. And, then it was a cub requesting the murder of another! They were so like Mehrunez – so innocent and foolish, and especially dangerous because of that. I couldn't wait to deal with the Mehrunez-hairless-cub.

This was the chance.

_My _chance to find them, to prove I was worthy of their ranks and that this Solän'cae would be invaluable to rebuilding the Dark Brotherhood. I would have to leave Delany to find the truth on her own. I could see, when she heard the Dunmer woman talk about it as well, that she knew she would go alone from here on. I would leave to find what I had come looking for.

Even though I would miss my hairless-Breton Delany, I was on the way to fulfilling my purpose here in Skyrim.

* * *

><p>Breakfast was tense – we were both avoiding the mammoth in the room concerning the Dark Brotherhood, the Septim Dynasty, and what we were going to do now. I wanted to research what we had found, but I also wanted Solän'<em>cae<em> to come with me. I wanted her to be with me when we found out something new and amazing, _and_ I wanted her to find what she was looking for, what she came to do.

Eventually we wandered the markets, and I bought a simple but sturdy hunting bow to replace my now-ashes-and-dust iron bow. We wandered through the city for a while, and finally ended up outside the Aretino Residence. I looked up to Solän'_cae_, and offered her a small smile.

"Well, good luck," I held out my hand, and jerked my head to the door. "He's probably waiting for someone like you to walk in and help him. If you ever need anything, or just feel like it, you write to me at the College, and I'll send something your way whenever you're not travelling too much. I'll let you know if I find anything, Solän'_cae_. And I hope you find them."  
>Solän'<em>cae<em> grinned, her sharp teeth glinting in the light as she took my hand and shook it firmly, in mock-seriousness. "To you too, Delany. I hope you find what we were looking for, in that College."

We grinned at each other, hands clasped, before embracing.

I turned and left for the stables to book the last cart out to Winterhold, while she turned to pick the lock of the house.

Neither of us looked back.

* * *

><p>Windhelm was snowy and windy, but Winterhold was just ice and frozen sea spray. There wasn't much left of the city, and what there was, were ramshackle wooden buildings, stooped under the weight of ice and snow. I hurried down the main street, glancing quickly at a few destroyed shacks before slipping along the ice and skidding into the inn. I shuddered from the sudden change in temperature – the inn was wonderfully warm, and I stumbled to the fire to warm myself better.<p>

A dark chuckle made me turn to a Wood Elf behind me. "I take it you're not from here? Don't worry – you'll get used to the cold and the snow eventually. I think I could help with that, actually…." He trailed suggestively. I scowled at him as best I could, about to snap at him when he waved a hand and stood, walking to me. "I'm Enthir. Boy, bring her some Nord mead for the cold."

I eyed him carefully. He had strawberry blonde hair, shaved at the sides and back, and long down the middle, falling down to one side over his left eye. "What do you want?" I asked coldly, wanting this Bosmer to leave me alone.  
>He scoffed, looking at me before handing a young Nord boy a handful of coins and taking a tankard of Nord mead and handing it to me. "What <em>I<em> want? The question is, what do _you_ want in Winterhold?"  
>"I don't see how that's any of your business," I hesitated before taking the mead from him. It was warmed, and from what I could smell, slightly spiced. It would be perfect to chase away the last of the chills I had.<br>"My business is knowing everyone else's business. There are few reasons people come to Winterhold, and they are: to learn something or buy spell tomes from Nelacar, to do business, or to try and get into the Mages College of Winterhold. Since you frowned when I mentioned Nelacar, you're not here for him; you look confused when I mention business, so that means you're here for the College," he finished. I narrowed my eyes at him, deciding to sip the mead despite my better judgment. He would want a favor if I asked any further questions, and what that favor would be might be something I couldn't afford to give. Enthir sniffed, staring at the fire. "A word of advice when dealing with Faralda tomorrow – choose your words wisely, because it will determine your entrance test to the College. And, I actually _have_ business to attend to…." He turned to leave, walking to a darker corner of the inn.  
>"What if I told Faralda I only wanted to access the library?" I called.<p>

Enthir stopped, and half-turned to look me over with a smirk. "She'll turn you away without even asking you why you want in."  
>"And what do you want from me for all this?"<br>"Information for information. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm _late_."

_Asshole,_ I thought, drinking the mead more readily as it warmed me a little more. I wandered to the bar, paid for food and board, and spent some time thinking about what kind of answer I would give this 'Faralda' tomorrow. Was she the one to test all would-be students, or was she actually the Archmage? I hadn't even thought to ask that, but then – would I really want to ask _Enthir_? I supposed he would want the same amount or value of information from me. But how much did I really value what he had told me?  
>I shook my head and opted for bed – I'd figure it out in the morning.<p>

* * *

><p>At least the wind had stopped blowing by the time morning came around. I must have broken my mind, and I had definitely destroyed my appetite thinking about what I might have to say to Faralda to get in. Until I reached the conclusion that she might not even be there, and that had been a tactic to try and dissuade me.<p>

Not that I felt any better about it, though.

I followed the main road through Winterhold to the west, and up a stone walkway up to a tall, narrow arch. An Altmer woman in the dark orange, red and black Master Destruction robes leaned against the arch, her arms crossed as she watched me walk closer. She raised two fingers to stop me, not bothering to move anything else. "Halt. I am Faralda, the Gatekeeper of the Mages College of Winterhold. State your name and business, and what you expect to find within the College."  
><em>Shit. Enthir was right – there <em>is_ a Faralda and she _does_ deal with prospective students._ "I'm Delany –" _I need to stall for time_! "– and I have some skill in magic. I seek to expand on what I know, and use the knowledge I can gain from inside the College to aid me in my travels." I grinned when she looked disinterested. "But…. Mostly, I just wanted to see what it looks like inside."

To my surprise, Faralda laughed. She straightened and smiled at me. "Ah, a sense of humor! That is something we are often in short supply of here. Very well, I require a demonstration of your skills. If I deem it sufficient, you may pass through to the College."  
>I nodded. "What do I need to do?"<br>"I would like you to conjure a Flame Atronach, on this College seal," she pointed at the seal on the floor between us.

I nodded again, and took a deep breath. Conjuration wasn't my strongest School, but I had managed Flame Atronachs on several occasions before this, so it shouldn't be much of a challenge. _Focus on what you want to summon,_ I walked myself through the spell. _Flame Atronach, from the Oblivion Planes._ I charged the purple and black spell in my right hand, curling my fingers around the condensing energy. I felt my magicka flow into the spell, and the scorching heat followed by tingling coolness when I released the spell against the seal.

There was a crack, the dark purple and black growing, warping and solidifying into a Flame Atronach. She rose a little, turned to face me, and turned a loop through the air to stop in front of me. I grinned, heaving out a relieved sigh that I had succeeded. Faralda smiled back when I met her gaze. "Good. Follow me, and I'll take you through to the College."

She dispelled my Atronach – much to my disappointment – and walked up the stone ramp behind her to a stone basin filled with liquid magicka. She charged a white spell in her hands, and threw it at the air above the basin. A light rose from the magicka pool, and she walked up a longer, steeper ramp. "Watch your step from here on – much of Winterhold was destroyed by a storm several years ago, and the College suffered its own damages – particularly on the bridge now spanning a chasm."  
>I frowned, about to ask when I suddenly saw what she meant.<p>

The bridge narrowed considerably, most of the stone tiles and walls broken off and washed away. A large portion of the bridge wasn't walled, and what remained was uneven and jagged. "For the love of Mara…" I breathed.  
>Faralda nodded solemnly and took the lead again, another light glowing above the magicka pool. "Yes. It is preferable to stay on one side of the bridge if you even suspect there might be wind while crossing – we <em>have<em> unfortunately lost two students who thought they could cross the bridge despite the ocean wind. Also, when it has snowed a lot, wait for someone from the College to melt the snow – often it creates the illusion of a broader, safer path. Keep your eyes open, focus on where you are going, and neither stop nor run – the key is to find the right speed," she cautioned, and immediately strode towards the College gates at the end. _Well, if you can survive a dragon, you can survive a bridge like this,_ I thought, and made the mistake of glancing over the edge of the wall I was close to. I squeezed my eyes shut, cursing violently to myself about the idiocy of crossing such a dangerous bridge while so high up, opened my eyes and strode after Faralda anyway.

I just reached the basin she stood at when I felt a sudden gust of wind rising from the ocean below. I gasped, my eyes widening on instinct. I hadn't expected it to be so powerful. Faralda half-chuckled. "Now you've managed to safely experience the strength of on ocean wind this high up – remember that when you want to risk crossing it." She lit the final basin, and the College gates' bolts opened and slammed into place.  
>"Why hasn't the College repaired the bridge yet?" I asked.<br>"Funding – while we receive a steady income from much of Skyrim and beyond, the truth is that it simply isn't enough to fully repair the bridge. And so it has stayed this way. And using magic to maintain a more permanent barrier would be taxing – how would the spell be powered? Perhaps, one day a mage and adventurer will find some ancient magic we can apply to the bridge to make it safer to traverse. Welcome to the College, Delany. You will want to speak with Mirabelle Ervine immediately – she handles all the new students. As you can see, she's standing in the courtyard with three others who had joined us late yesterday. I'm sure she's giving them a brief tour of the College before sending them to their classes. You're lucky to have made the last of the admissions this semester."

And just like that, she went back to her post at the arch, and I walked through the College gates to join the small crowd. Everyone was dressed in the light blue and beige Novice Mage robes – except for Mirabelle, in the dark violet, pale pink and light blue Master Restoration robes. I felt out of place in my worn leather armor and fur-lined cloak.

"Ah, another prospective student! Welcome, and join us – I am Mirabelle Ervine, as I am sure Faralda has already mentioned, and these are Onmund –" a young Nord man waved awkwardly, "– J'zargo, –" the cream-colored Khajiit scoffed, as if he was sizing me up for potential competition, "– and Brelyna Maryon."

_A Dark Elf woman – I've certainly managed to pick an interesting group_, I thought, nodding and smiling. The she-elf didn't really acknowledge me – but I wasn't here to make friends, I was here for the library. And, now that I was enrolled, taking classes wouldn't hurt in the slightest. "I'm Delany, pleased to meet everyone."

Mirabelle huffed, pleased that introductions had gone well. "The others have been here since last night, so they already know where the Hall of Attainment is, so we shall begin there for your sake, Delany. You will find clothes more suited to your studies here in your dorm room, as well. Now," she said, walking to a tower on my left, "this is the Hall of Attainment, where all the Novice through Adept mages reside. Study hard and practice often, and pass your examinations and you will soon rise to great heights within the College. This Hall consists of four levels, six rooms per level, with at least one Expert mage residing within the tower at all times to keep order amongst our ranks. While you may come and go as you please, you are expected to be quiet and respectful of your fellows while within these Halls. Not everyone follows the same routines, so many may be awake through the night or at odd hours. Delany, this is your room," Mirabelle showed me to the first room on the right, on the ground floor of the tower. This was a fast-moving tour of the College. I quickly dropped my pack on the bed, noting the Novice Mage robes neatly folded on a dresser. "Sizing shouldn't be an issue – they are enchanted to change to fit the wearer regardless of height and weight, merely give it a few moments to adjust. Once it has adjusted, it will not revert if worn regularly or change unless given to another to wear. You can change your attire as soon as the tour is done.  
>"Now," she addressed all of us again. "Master Tolfdir is the current, most senior mage to reside within this Hall, and he can be found to the right of the stairs on this floor. Now, let's move on to the Hall of Countenance, the Hall of Nourishment, the Hall of the Elements, the Arcaneum and the Midden."<p>

_Wow,_ I thought, shaking my head as I followed the group through the different parts of the College. _This is more of a quest than I expected it to be._

* * *

><p>I fell onto my new bed some time after lunch. The 'Hall of Nourishment' was something of a joke among most mages here, and I could appreciate it to a certain degree. The Midden was a series of underground research cubicles, somewhat iced over since the Great Collapse, and anyone who wanted to conduct more delicate, private research could officially book out a room with Urag gro-Shub, the Orc scholar in charge of the Arcaneum, the great library here at the College I so desperately wanted to see.<p>

Its size and the number of books within had far exceeded my imaginings – I couldn't believe that even such a small section had such a large collection of books, tomes, scrolls, tablets…. I was sure, if one were to venture into the more disorganized, forgotten parts of the library, one might even be lucky enough to stumble across an Elder Scroll. An actual, legitimate Elder Scroll…. I laughed to myself, shaking my head and pulled the curtain over the archway to my room so I could change into my new robes. I had drifted from my original train of thought.

When Mirabelle had taken us down to the Midden, showing us the two main entrances from both sides, she made it very clear to us – almost to the point of assault – that we were _never_ to go beyond a very clearly marked point in the Midden, _ever_, on pain of expulsion and memory alteration.

Naturally such a restriction gave me all the more reason to go down there and see what was so completely forbidden, but I would have to wait a while, and establish myself as an upstanding student before I would even begin to book research time in the Midden. I wondered briefly if Urag would allow the removal of books from the Arcaneum…. _I doubt it,_ I thought, tugging the newly-adjusted robes into place a little better. _If I want to take books down to the Midden I'll have to steal them out of the library, and I'm quite sure the books I want will either be protected by all sorts of spells, or I will spend so much time looking for them, that by the time I have it, I will need to hand it over for proper restorative work and cataloging._

"I need to get in as a scribe," I breathed, staring at myself in the mirror. I pulled my long black hair back, ran my fingers through it quickly and braided my hair all the way down. Classes started tomorrow, and I would need to sign up for everything I wanted today _and_ make sure nothing clashed.

As much as I distrusted Enthir, I really hoped he would be in the dining hall tonight. I needed to confirm he was here without asking questions – I suspected he appreciated discretion as much as I did, and I really didn't want to raise the wrong sort of attention where he was concerned. I had a feeling he was far more dangerous and connected than he seemed to be.

Call it a thief's intuition.


End file.
